


Little Biconcave cells

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-20
Updated: 2007-02-20
Packaged: 2019-01-19 05:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12403722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa Black have something different that none of the other girls at Hogwarts have. Whatever this difference may be it incites a group of Ravenclaw boys to become infatuated with them. Witness how and why the Black sister’s relationship broke apart and why they made the decisions they did. (Slightly AU years)





	Little Biconcave cells

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

We never see each other much, the guys of my old dormitory; we swore that we would stay in touch after Hogwarts. Walking down the glossy grass to say a final goodbye to the grounds of the ancient school. How could we know though that things would never be the same? 

We were foolish and young, there was a war that barely concerned us, just a distant smudge on the margin of a newspaper, the reason trains got delayed or shops closed down, but ultimately nothing significant to our lives. We would be friends forever. 

 Alas, we married and had children, sagged and wrinkled like old forgotten clothes, we didn’t continue our prodigy like we planned we would after we left, we instead found careers, bought houses, emerged into domestic bliss and finally became our fathers, despite swearing we never would.

   


On occasions we’d meet, weddings, dinner parties and the like and as the mead would flow we would forget the blip of a war that was suddenly the centre of our lives, forget that it was the only thing that connected us still and carelessly fall into the danger that was our memories. Together, we would laugh at our pathetic attempts to woo girls, the seriousness we held over becoming Blood Brothers or recount on the things we had done to avoid certain classes. 

   


As the night drifted on, it would not be uncommon for us to stumble upon a favourite subject: the Black girls. We were in our fifth year of school when our infatuation started. Even now we cannot agree what happened or how. 

   


It was like they had suddenly appeared to us, burnished objects that we could look at but never dream of touching. Stars, in a sense. Maybe that description is a cliché? 

   


That summer of 1972 was a hot and humid one, as we discovered the art of kissing through our neighbours’ daughters and realised our own manhood by outgrowing our broomsticks- the heights we flew at were no longer exhilarating and daring like they were in previous summers. 

   


When we returned to school however, to dusty classrooms and the smell of learning, similar to dated unicorn hair, we took a second glance as those three girls walked the corridors together; the same delicate faces with different sets of eyes like the birthstones in their family rings. 

   


The oldest girl was Bellatrix, seventeen and in her final year of Hogwarts, two years to her junior came Andromeda, in fifth year we were amazed that we had never spoken to her or noticed that mysterious smile that we would think of later, as our ears rang from explosions and screams from tortured friends, realising why she did what she did.  

The youngest was Narcissa, a third year, who barely registered before for her age, but now she was just as tall and ladylike as the others, with the exception of baby fat around her face, that seemed to cause more appeal to some of us. 

   


We wanted to know about them, their past, their future, whether it would involve us. They were a new obsession that no other girls at Hogwarts could compare to; we would do anything where the Black girls were concerned.

   


The second week back of the year and of our new hobby, Jack Farrel came to us with some news: his cousin Emma Farrel in Gryffindor, had been babbling on about one of her many romances, when she mentioned Sirius Black and how he seemed more alluring because of his tragic past.

   


The connection seemed brilliant and irritating because it was so simple. Sirius Black, third year, Gryffindor and celebrity comedian was their cousin and an untapped source of information. Of course, problem was he was nicknamed a “Marauder”, and sometimes these could not be relied on. We decided to risk it.

   


We found him by tip-off on the third floor corridor, near a statue of a hunched-over witch, tapping the wall with his fist and murmuring to himself. We exchanged looks. His partner in crime, James Potter, sat cross-legged on the ground, balancing his wand on his index finger looking bored and indifferent to Black’s lunatic behaviour.

   


‘Sirius Black?’ Emmet Coffee questioned, as we approached, it was somewhat in the manner of the police show he once saw on television when visiting his Muggle grandparents.

   


‘Who wants to know?’ Black asked loudly, and then continued whispering to the walls. Potter watched mildly interested at us, probably wondering what a bunch of fifth years wanted with his friend.

   


‘Um, well, we were wondering if you would answer a few questions, about your cousins?’ Emmet ventured, Black appeared expressionless.

   


He stopped a moment and looked at us.

   


‘What do you want to know about those three hags for?’

   


We steadied our hearts; the thought of the Black girls being “hags” was unfathomable to us.

   


He continued, ‘Even Andy is acting like an idiot; after she promised she would stick up for me. I should have known better, they all act thick Slytherin.’

   


‘I don’t think it’s the house that causes them to act thick, Sirius old chum, judging by you it’s genetic,’ Potter commented.

   


‘Oi! Watch it,’ Sirius warned, ‘fine, what do you want to know?’

   


The idea of an open pool of information on these girls made us dizzy, we didn’t think Black was likely to co-operate. What could we ask?

   


‘Umm,’ Emmet managed.

   


‘Very articulate,’ Black replied sarcastically. 

   


‘Listen, take my advice,’ he went on briskly, as though used to these types of inquisitions, ‘they are very nice to look at my cousins, but you have no chance unless you come from a good bloodline and have plenty of gold. I’m sure you are nice blokes and everything, but these girls, I know because I grew up with them, they have blades for teeth, their perfume is poison and their only purpose in life is to produce monsters like themselves. Stay well clear of them.’

   


Black continued his activity after his little speech and we watched him in part disbelief. 

   


We knew the girls were pureblood and the family were extremists on that part, but that made them even more alluring as they were more so unattainable. Black couldn’t be right about them being evil, after all, it was common knowledge he loathed his family. Technically, as a source he was biased. Farell’s idea was stupid, we decided after. 

   


‘C’mon Prongs, lets go,’ Black said moving off. Potter looked like he wasn’t aware he was talking to him, like the nickname was new and he hadn’t got used to it. On realisation, he trotted after him until they disappeared into the darkness that eclipsed the far end of the corridor. 

   


Watching the girls slowly became the basis of our existence; we knew to learn all about them, how Narcissa’s cheeks grew rosy during her Herbology class, how Andromeda braided her hair when she was nervous, how Bellatrix would read the Daily Prophet front to back everyday during lunch. 

   


We were falling in love with them, walking past their classes in the chance of bumping into them and smelling their individual scents, Narcissa an innocent and pure _Lily of the Valley_ , Andromeda a fresh passion fruit and Bellatrix the conservative yet enthralling Lavender. 

   


We gradually too obtained a small collection of their belongings, a scrap of parchment of Andromeda’s reminding her to “ _Get Potions notes and write to Mama_ ” in neat handwriting that reminded us of an era of Empires or a time now lost. It was our most precious amongst the quills, handkerchief and an earring that we kept magpie-like in a hatbox on top of the wardrobe in our dormitory.

   


We never told anyone of our secret, but we were sure we weren’t alone in it. The girls received love notes like junk mail, the other Slytherins like Stags compared their status on whether they could qualify for the Black girls, the Gryffindors were torn in a sense of longing yet with guilt and restraint, the Hufflepuffs merely sighed and accepted it was another thing in life they would not achieve. Whilst us Ravenclaws examined them and took notes, analysing everything like a Care of Magical Creatures Class, “ _Observe the behaviour of the **Tourjous Pur** commonly known as the Black girls…_ ”

   


***

   


It was in October though that we noticed things began to change, the girls were bickering more over amber marmalade and toast at breakfast, Narcissa pulling a silver teapot to her as she listened haughtily to Andromeda and Bellatrix fight. We tried to catch what they were arguing about, comparing snippets of the conversation with one another. What we gathered in the end was speculation.

   


‘I can’t believe you’re writing to him!’ Bellatrix hissed at mousy haired Andromeda; we knew every freckle on that girl’s nose. We would argue later who was prettiest, it was natural to say Narcissa, but on occasions Andromeda’s brown eyes would creep back to us and it was difficult to ignore her earthy appearance. 

   


‘He hasn’t done anything wrong and it’s not like we aren’t related!’ Andromeda justified herself.

   


‘Not done anything wrong?’ Bellatrix repeated in amazement, ‘You can be so _stupid_ at times; it’s hard to believe you’re not in Hufflepuff. The man was a traitor to our heritage, Andromeda, not to mention Aunt Walburga is convinced it was his influence on Sirius that caused him to enter Gryffindor.’

   


‘Bellatrix, “that man” just in case you forgot, is our Uncle Alphard, I don’t believe in disowning family. Besides, in my opinion, regardless what you or _darling_ Aunt Walburga say, I think Sirius made that decision alone. He never before carried too much weight on what others thought,’ Andromeda sighed angrily as she began to stand up. ‘Anyway, I’m in Charms, I’ll talk to you later.’

   


‘Yes, well, I’m telling Mama and Aunt Walburga on you,’ Bellatrix called after her, somewhat immaturely.

   


We were shocked at the low, ‘Like I care,’ Andromeda muttered in response. We know Bellatrix didn’t hear it herself, but it was then we began to see the papered-over cracks in the sisterhood. Andromeda and Bellatrix couldn’t agree on certain Muggle attitudes and Narcissa remained indifferent as long as possible. 

   


Later, the guys retrieved some of the letters from the girls’ Uncle Alphard to Andromeda, and we found out it was his Muggle policies he had been shunned for by the Black family.

Alphard had been campaigning to end Muggle hunting in Cambodia: something revolutionary amongst this elite bloodline since the days of Phineas Black Junior, who too had been a radical Muggle Rights supporter. 

Alphard died prematurely a few years later; by that time Andromeda was in France and never heard. It would be years later before she would find out that he was murdered in his sleep and he had gold left to Sirius. 

   


That next day would be a significant one in the girls’ lives unknown to them and us. We continued to watch them, jealous of the swarthy way the Slytherin boys held their waists and magicked trinkets for them. We believed we could do much better if they permitted us to come near them. 

   


It was the first Hogsmeade trip of the year and it was highly anticipated despite the damp, blustery weather. The castle seemed confining; due to the rising Dark activity it was necessary to stay indoors the majority of the time.  

   


That day, we felt our bodies go crazy as we watched Andromeda, Narcissa and Bellatrix in their casual robes walk into the village.

   


The girls’ informal robes were much more fitted than the school uniform. We would after watch them between classes, thinking about the figure the identical fabric to ours concealed.  

   


The Black girls didn’t walk down together to Hogsmeade that day. Narcissa, fresh to the novelty of trips to the village, took off with her girlfriends plotting on what shops they would tackle first. 

   


Bellatrix was not remotely interested in Hogsmeade, but appeared to be going anyway, she stood composed and pale with the usual air of having something better to do.  Eventually, she was joined by the usual admirers from Slytherin, the majority, unfortunately for us, boys.

   


Andromeda walked down later alone; we know that because that was how she met Ted Tonks.

   


The day did not seem to become day, due to the presence of gloomy clouds 

But the lights of the shops created a warm, yellow glow, inviting customers in. Narcissa stared around in awe of Honeydukes; as a child, she remembered her young father taking her there when he visited friends in Hogsmeade. 

   


Narcissa, it seemed, always bore a sense of pride mingled with sadness towards her father; he was not even Narcissa’s age when his wife gave birth to Bellatrix. Maybe that was why he never had time for his daughters; he had already given away his adolescence for them.  

   


Narcissa knew she had to appreciate that that was how life worked if they wanted Anglican-Ascendancy of purebloods to survive. Anger flitted under her skin as she thought of the blood traitors, contaminating themselves rather than make sacrifices. 

   


Watching customers in the cramped shop, Narcissa crinkled her nose in disgust at the Muggle borns who darted back and forth in ridiculous hysterics; easily amused at trivial things such as Sugar Quills; things Naricssa had known for years. This was why, in her opinion mudbloods needed to stop the invasion of their world, they didn’t understand their ways or traditions, and they ruined it, mistaking cheap fantasy with realism. 

   


***

Andromeda walked the downhill slope to the village; her feet enjoying the crunch of gravel beneath her, the wind making her hair catch in her mouth and the breath in her chest.

 Looking around, Andromeda realised she was alone; leaving Hogwarts later than most: she had decided to check on Sirius while the castle was empty. The thought of how Bellatrix would act if she thought they had been talking was unbearable to Andromeda.  

   


Sirius, it seemed, did not want to go to Hogsmeade with the rest of the third years, despite it being the first trip for him. He, along with his three friends, had strangely decided to sit in the library “doing homework”. 

   


This appeared odd to Andromeda, but Sirius’s surly mood threatened her not to delve any deeper and so she took herself off. Andromeda supposed she had neglected him lately; she made a promise to herself to make up for it in sweets of some form. 

   


We don’t really know for sure if this is what happened, but our sources indicate this much. Two years ago, when the Order of the Phoenix set up its headquarters in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, we were clearing out the attic when we found boxes of old school books and parchment. 

   


Among these, we found three of Andromeda’s diaries and one of Narcissa’s. Narcissa’s was mainly doodles, but Andromeda’s did provide some detail of her time at school and after.

   


 We only got limited time to read them. Sirius Black in an unexplained fit of rage destroyed them all. He argued the box was only a waste of space, dumped in the attic when Bellatrix and Rodolphus married, because they did not want it in their own house. It was painful, watching what could be potential answers to our mysteries going up in purple flames, even if it was years later.

   


Alone, Andromeda broke into speed, letting her legs move into an uncontrollable run; she was sure they would take off on their own as they heeded to gravity, the wind whistling, burnt her ears scarlet with cold. 

Unfortunately, this type of practice was unfamiliar to her, when she usually maintained a ladylike disposition, and so Andromeda ended up, as though in slow motion, catching on her own feet and falling to the ground. 

   


Breathless, Andromeda pulled herself back onto her knees, rubbing little specks of pebbles from her hands and observing the tiny red cuts on her ivory palms.

   


We found out from Kreacher, the house-elf, in his mutterings in Grimmauld Place, that Andromeda, the “perfidious slut”, had been prone to cutting herself as a girl, a reason that led her Aunt Walburga to believe her niece would be “careless with her noble blood”. 

   


Cleaning her robes down with her wand, Andromeda became aware of laughter from the other side of the pillars flanked with gargoyles. She froze, feeling a red blush creep up the back of her neck and in her forehead.

   


‘That - was – really – priceless,’ the boy said between laughter, ‘did you take a rock back from your _trip_?’

   


‘I didn’t think anyone saw,’ Andromeda said stiffly. She rubbed her stinging palms on her robes so the blood mixed with the remaining dirt on them. ‘What do you mean by that?’

   


‘What? Are you slow or something? Like you know the way you get rocks on trips— oh right,’ he said with realisation, ‘you’re one of those, _purebloods_.’ 

   


He said the word in such a mocking manner Andromeda felt she would forget her wand and hit him. 

   


‘Do you not know who I am?’ she demanded.

   


‘No,’ the boy said uncaring, as he lit a rolled up cigarette, ‘Why? Should I?’

   


‘I’m Andromeda Black,’ Andromeda said, clearly this boy had some sort of problem.

   


‘Like I care,’ the boy shrugged, with a hint of laughter that enraged Andromeda further. ‘But if you must know, _Princess_ , my name is Ted.’

   


Whether the “princess” jibe angered Andromeda further or due to the overwhelming embarrassment she was feeling, it caused her to storm off angrily.

   


‘Aww, are you leaving so soon, Treacle?’ Ted called after her, ‘Stay, go on, I promise I won’t tell anyone about your fall!’

   


Andromeda doubled back and with an amazing strength pushed Ted against the stone pillar and pushed her wand into his Adam’s apple.

   


‘Don’t worry, you won’t,’ she hissed.

   


‘Or what? You going to cast one of your OWL standard spells on me? Like I couldn’t defend my self,’ Ted choked, but still managed a smirk.

   


“No, _Treacle_ …’ Andromeda looked him up and down slyly, ‘but I’ll tell you what, I’ll have my whole house on your back. Got it?’

   


Ted continued to smile patronisingly in a way that made Andromeda want to smack it off his stupid face. Instead, she let go of him and moved towards the Village.

   


She just about heard him call after her, ‘You part of the Mafia or something?’

Andromeda decided to ignore him. 

   


***

Bellatrix sat unimpressed in the Three Broomsticks. 

   


‘Ok, now would you like to explain why we are here, Rodolphus?’ 

   


‘In a minute, Bella, wait, wait, patience is a virtue,’ Rodolphus Lestrange said, winking at her.

   


‘Rodolphus, if you do that again I’m going to put this wand in that eye,’ Bellatrix whispered under her breath.

   


Rodolphus burst out laughing, he always found Bellatrix’s rash threats rather ridiculous. Even Bellatrix had to smile now, in spite of herself. 

   


‘What are we waiting on though?’ she sighed impatiently.

   


‘Lucius,’ Rodolphus muttered, taking a swig of Butterbeer, ‘wonder where he is, he’s taking his time.’  

   


At that moment, a tousled looking, blonde-haired Lucius entered the pub and spotting the couple, joined them quietly.

   


‘Well?’ Rodolphus leaned forward eagerly.

   


‘I just met one of them, at the Shrieking Shack,’ Lucius said, removing his green and silver scarf and displaying a flushed face. 

   


‘What did he look like? Did you know him?’ Rodolphus questioned.

   


‘No, he was disguised.’

   


‘What were the instructions?’

   


Bellatrix had a sudden outburst, ‘When someone would like to tell me what’s going on—’

   


Rodolphus smiled again, ‘Sorry Bella—’

   


‘Wait,’ Lucius interrupted, ‘ _you_ get to call her “Bella”? When did this start?”

   


‘It didn’t start, because if Rodolphus does it again, I swear,’ Bellatrix threatened, ‘Now tell me what’s going on.’

   


‘Ok, ok, I met one of His followers,’ Lucius said in an undertone, Bellatrix leaned in too, her eyes widening excitedly.

   


‘What? You mean, the Dark Lord?’ Bellatrix whispered; it was barely audible.

   


‘Yes,’ Lucius answered, ‘it seems it should be fine for us to join His circle, He needs spies at Hogwarts—’

   


Bellatrix, eyes shining, let out a little squeal, ‘Really? Oh my—’

   


‘Bellatrix, no,’ Lucius said, ‘Let me finish, I don’t think he meant you. He doesn’t want—um—females, as such.’

   


‘ _Excuse me_?’ Bellatrix asked loudly, looking outraged.

   


‘Yes, I know it is stupid, Bellatrix, but listen,’ Lucius went on quickly, ‘He wants us to prove ourselves, before he can let us join for certain. He gave us a task. If you take part in it, I’m sure you can demonstrate yourself enough and He will let you join too.’

   


‘How do I know you two aren’t just using me to carry this task out?’ Bellatrix asked suspiciously.

   


‘Don’t be stupid, we wouldn’t do that to you,’ Rodolphus said seriously.

   


‘Fine,’ Bellatrix agreed grudgingly, ‘What is this task?’

We didn't hear much more of the conversation despite sitting in the table next to these Slytherins; just at that moment the Gryffindor Quidditch team, who had just won their first match of the season the day before, entered the pub receiving a cheer, so everything became distinctly more rowdy and loud.

 

   


 


End file.
